Let It Burn
by isabella2004
Summary: A young, married WDC gets her head and heart turned by the inimitable Frank Burnside.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note: I don't own any characters from The Bill. Christina is a figment of my imagination!**

 **Prologue**

 **16** **th** **December 1990**

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes."

Christina stared out of the windscreen, hoping that he wouldn't ask anything further. It was the morning after the night before and the atmosphere in the CID office when she'd walked in had been testament to the fact they had clearly all been talking about her and Stewart and what had happened. Before she could say anything, confront anyone, Frank had told her he wanted her to come with him to see a snout so they had ended up sitting in his car, waiting on the Maycroft estate and she could tell he was angry.

"What happened when you got home?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it bloody well matters!" he exclaimed. "He assaulted you in that pub and if you hadn't stopped me, I'd have landed one on him for it!"

"Why do you think I stopped you?" she asked, glancing at him. "How would it have helped anything?"

"Did he hit you?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!"

"You don't deserve to be treated like that. No woman does. You deserve to be with someone who loves you..."

"He does love me," she protested weakly.

"Well he's got a funny way of showing it!" He snapped. "Can't you see what he's doing to you? What he's been doing to you all this time? What happened to him was not your fault and you shouldn't have to pay for it for the rest of your life by putting up with him hurting you like that."

"Frank, please..."

"You deserve better."

"Stop..."

"Well what do you want me to say? You must know how I feel about you."

Silence descended over the car, the only noise coming from the rain outside as it battered against the window. Christina found that she didn't dare look at him, didn't want to see the expression on his face or let him see the expression on hers. He had finally been the one to say it, the first one to give voice to feelings that she had known were there but had been too afraid to confront. The long lingering looks, the crackle in the air, the way she had felt her heart beat faster and her temperature rise whenever she was near him...it was all so inappropriate, like a schoolgirl crush on a teacher, but she had always wondered if he had felt anything akin to the same.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. "I shouldn't have said that..."

"No," she interrupted, turning to look at him for the first time. "No, it's ok. I felt...I feel...I just didn't know..." she cursed herself for not being able to speak coherently, but what were you supposed to say? When your friend, your boss, the man you had to ashamedly admit you'd fantasised about when suffering the indignity of sex with your husband was telling you he had feelings for you, what were you supposed to say? Before she could say anything more, Frank reached out and touched her chin gently and she felt her breathing grow shallow and her body start to tremble. Part of her wanted to pull away and another part of her wanted to pull him close, to feel him against her, to experience what it was liked to be touched by someone you actually wanted and who wanted you. But she couldn't ignore the fact that she was married and it almost felt as though her wedding ring was burning into the flesh on her finger. "I...I can't..." she heard herself whisper.

Frank drew his hand back and turned to look back out of the window, jaw clenched. "I want you," he said after a long moment. "I'm not going to lie about it, and neither should you."

"You mean you want to take me to bed."

"What's wrong with that?" he asked, turning to looking at her again.

"Nothing."

"I bet I could satisfy you a damn sight more there than he can." She felt herself shiver at the illicitness of his words. "Anyway...it's not just that."

"No?"

"No. I know what you might think about me..."

"I don't think anything..."

"But I am capable of having feelings, you know. I am capable of caring for another person other than myself. I care about you."

She swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in her throat. "I care about you too." She met his gaze again and there was another long silence, heavy with words unsaid and actions uncompleted. "I...I think about you."

"When?" he asked, his voice soft, barely audible above the pounding rain.

"All the time," she admitted in barely a whisper.

This time when he reached out, she met him halfway. It felt normal, natural, in a way that had been missing in her marriage for so long. When he kissed her, she responded. When his fingers found their way into her hair, she gently cupped his face with her hand. Every nerve in her body jangled, her nipples hardened, her sweet spot contracted...the sexual desire was real. God, it had been so long...She felt herself growing more insistent, taking the lead, sliding her hand down over his belt to the juncture of his thighs and feeling satisfied with what she found.

"We can't do this here..." Frank breathed, pulling back from her.

Reality smacked her in the face and she put her hand to her mouth, lips still burning from where they had been connected. "We can't do this anywhere," she said. "We can't...I can't...God what a mess!" Putting her head in her hands she willed away the tears that were threatening to come. It was all so unjust, unfair...what had she done to deserve the life she had been living? How could it possibly continue, especially now...?

She felt his hand on her leg, "Chris..."

"No..." pushing him away, she opened the car door and stepped out into the rain. It was cold on her skin, but it also felt good, as though she could breathe.

"Get back in the car!" Frank came up behind her. "Come on, we'll freeze to death out here!"

"I can't..." she shook her head.

"I won't touch you," he promised. "I'm sorry. I won't touch you."

"Don't you understand?" she swung around to face him. "I _want_ you to touch me! I've thought about nothing else for weeks, months...I don't know how long! But you're my boss and I'm married and..." she broke off and took a deep breath, knowing she had to regain control before everything was lost. "What about your snout?"

Frank looked puzzled, "What?"

"What about your snout? The one we were supposed to meet here. Is he coming or not?"

"There never was any meeting with any snout," he said. "It was a reason to get you on your own."

Christina stared at him, "Why?"

"Why do you think? To make sure you were all right after last night! To find out if he had done anything to you! To get you away from the whispers going round the nick!"

Anger flared inside her, "I don't need you to protect me!"

"I know..."

"What do you think you can do? Make it better for me? You can't make it better, Frank! This is my life and my marriage! He's my husband for better or worse!" Pushing past him, she wrenched open the car door and slid back into the passenger seat, slamming it behind her. Seconds later, he followed suit. Silence descended once again, the only sound being their collective breathing and finally the hum of the engine. The wipers swished the rain from side to side and the windows misted up around them, appropriate given what had been about to happen mere moments earlier. "We should get back," she said finally, her voice level again. "I don't know about you but I've got a shit load of work to get through and sitting here waiting for a non-existent snout isn't going to get it done any faster." For a moment, nothing happened. No-one spoke, the car didn't move, the rain kept falling. Finally, she looked over at him again. "Please."

He held her gaze for a long moment before finally putting the car in gear and heading back in the direction of the station.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter One**

 **28** **th** **July 1988**

She felt stifled in her dress.

It was one of the hottest days of the year so far and whoever had organised the event had not considered the comfort and well being of the attendees. All the windows were closed, there were no fans and the only relief that could be found was waving the paper programmes in front of one's face hoping that it would create a modicum of breeze. She could feel a rivulet of sweat slowly making its way down her back and wished, not for the first time, that she had worn the blue dress instead of the green.

"It's too short," Stewart had said when she had tried the blue on that morning and paraded in front of him.

"It's just on the knee," she had protested.

"Wear the green one," he had ordered, ignoring her protestations about how the green one had sleeves and would probably cause her to melt whilst the blue one would at least allow her to be able to watch the ceremony in comfort. She knew she should have argued the toss with him or, in fact, simply told him that she was wearing the blue one and bugger whether it was too short. But she hadn't. She had acquiesced, worn the green one and accepted his compliment about how beautiful she looked with a gracious smile.

As the ceremony dragged on, name after name was read out and the outburst of applause grew shorter and shorter, she found her mind wandering back to Sun Hill. The clock on the wall behind the stage told her it was almost two o'clock and, if the information had been correct, the building society job would be about to go off. She could imagine them all, sat in their cars, watching and waiting and although she knew she was where she was meant to be, it was difficult to not wish she was with them.

"A day off?" Frank had demanded when she had told him she would miss the blag. "Who said you could have a day off?"

"Mr Conway," she had replied.

"I see...went over my head, did you?"

"No," she had sighed, really unwilling to get involved in yet another fight with him. "He approached me. He heard about Stewart's commendation and asked me if wanted the time off to attend."

"Oh I see," he'd said, looking her up and down, "quite the dutiful little wife, aren't we?"

"For bravery in the line of duty, Detective Sergeant Stewart Church."

The sound of her husband's name brought Christina Lewis back to reality and she smiled and clapped enthusiastically as he crossed the stage to receive his commendation. As he posed for the formal photograph with the commissioner, his gaze sought her out and he raised his eyebrows in a show of solidarity that made her forget the dispute over the dress and remember all the things she loved about him. Eight years since their wedding, twelve years since they had first declared themselves to each other and she knew that, deep down, she loved him as much now as she had then.

Ten more names, ten more bursts of applause and, finally, the ceremony was over. Now for the schmoozing, the part she had been looking forward to even less. She hated making small talk with superior officers, not to mention she was expected to play the proud wife on every occasion and, more often than not, keep to herself that she too was a serving CID officer. Even in the progressive nineteen eighties it was still seen as surprising.

"Second commendation in a year, eh?" Turning, she found herself face to face with Harry Grimm, one of Stewart's colleagues. "He's putting us all to shame you know."

"I'm sure it's just been a case of right place, right time," she replied, unsure really as to why she was trying to make him feel better. Harry wasn't someone she had really taken to since Stewart had joined the Drugs Squad. Unmarried, and with a slightly squinty left eye, she didn't mind admitting that he made her uneasy. When she had told Stewart this one evening, however, he had told her she was being ridiculous.

"Yes well, Stewart does have a knack of making things work out for himself." Harry lifted two glasses of champagne from a passing waitress and passed one to her. "Must be hard for you, constantly living in his shadow."

"Yes," she replied, downing half the glass in one go and suddenly remembering another reason why she didn't like him. "It's absolutely terrible."

XXXX

He was pissed off.

The job hadn't gone exactly as it was meant to, at least not according to the so-called reliable information they had received three days earlier. Instead of three blaggers there had been five, instead of it all kicking off at two o'clock it was fully a quarter to three before anyone showed up. Not to mention there was a second car waiting in the alleyway behind the building society that had allowed three of the suspects to escape. Now all he was left with was Peter Milton, seventeen if he was a day and clearly in way over his head, and Tommy Fulton, who knew the score and would enjoy every syllable of 'no comment.'

It was not the result Frank Burnside had been hoping for.

Three weeks he had been at Sun Hill and this was supposed to have been his first big collar since taking over as DI. Something to impress those upstairs and now it looked as though he might just end up with egg on his face. He knew whose fault it was and there was no way he was going to let it pass without cracking a few heads.

"Ted, get in here!" he bellowed, not even bothering to leave his desk or open the door. Given his desk was wedged practically right under his nose, he knew the Irishman wouldn't be able to pretend not to hear him. Wearing a look of sheepishness mixed with arrogance, a look it seemed only Ted could pull off, he opened the office door. "Have you gotten hold of your scroat of a snout yet?"

"No," Ted replied, "I'm guessing he's trying to avoid me."

"Well at least he's got some sense. What the hell was he playing at giving you that duff information?"

"It wasn't entirely duff."

"Oh yeah? You enjoy wasting your time on one of the hottest days of the year sitting in a Fiesta do you?"

"At least the job went off. It wasn't as if we were sat there for nothing," Ted protested.

"We might as well have been," Frank said. "A seventeen year old kid and Tommy Fulton does not a result make!"

"The kid might talk, given the right persuasion."

"He'll be too scared of Fulton to open his mouth and Fulton's not going to say anything, is he? He'll have that slimy brief doing the talking for him. Not to mention we've got no idea who else was in on the job or where they even are! Your snout should have known about the second car."

"Well when I finally catch up with him, I'll make sure he's aware of that fact," Ted replied impatiently. "What do you want me to do? I can't magic him out of thin air."

Frank sat back in his chair and sighed heavily. "Derek Conway is going to be all over me for this. I promised him a cast iron result."

"You should know better than that."

"Watch your tone," Frank said sharply. "A few more bodies might have been helpful if uniform had been prepared to put themselves out a bit. Not to mention, if _madam_ hadn't been away hobnobbing with the great and good."

Ted smiled, "Oh I'm pretty sure if you asked her she would say she would rather have been here."

"Doesn't enjoy being part of the limelight?" he asked acerbically.

"Well that's just it, isn't it? It's not her limelight." Ted turned back to the door. "I'll get Jim to check whether or not Fulton's brief's arrived. The kid said he didn't want one, so do you want to start with him?"

Frank threw his pen down onto the desk. "Why not? Nothing better to do."

XXXX

"What's your new boss like?" Harry asked, lifting another glass of champagne, his fourth at least, and shrugging when she indicated she didn't want another one. "I hear he's a bit of a bastard."

"He takes a bit of getting used to," Christina replied diplomatically, glancing around to try and locate Stewart.

"Likes the ladies too," Harry raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well I doubt I fall into that category." Indeed, nothing could be further from the truth. To say that she and Frank didn't get on was an understatement. Everything she did seemed to rub him up the wrong way and everything he said made her want to punch him in the face. Something in the way that he looked at her, and not with admiration, was seriously making her reconsider whether Sun Hill was still the place for her.

"You're not bad looking."

"I'm also married, Harry," she said, a shudder going through her and was grateful to see Stewart walking towards them.

"I don't think that matters to Frank Burnside."

Curiosity slightly piqued, she was about to ask him what he meant when Stewart's arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her into him for a kiss, an action she would have welcomed had it not been for the fact he was sweating profusely under his suit and his breath held the acrid taste of beer. "Hope you've been looking after my wife, Harry."

"Of course."

"Fancy a few jars down the pub?"

Harry's face lit up, "Do you really have to ask?"

Stewart turned to her, looking at her with the familiar expression he always wore when he was going to ask her permission for something he had already decided to do regardless. "You don't mind if me and the lads go for a few to celebrate, do you?"

"No, of course not," she replied, somewhat relieved at the prospect of escape. "I might just pop back to the nick and find out how the building society job went."

"I thought you had the whole day off?"

"I do, but it might win me some brownie points with Burnside if I show my face and you know how much I'm in need of those."

"Fine," Stewart said tightly, quickly removing his arm. Christina knew she had touched a raw nerve but rather than feel apologetic, she found herself merely irritated. It had been six years since she transferred from uniform and still he would prefer her to be pounding the beat in a hat clutching a handbag. It clearly wasn't enough that he outranked her and that he had a coveted spot in the squad. "Would you rather I simply went home and waited for you?"

"Well I can't deny that the thought of you naked and turned on in our bed waiting for me gives me a bit of thrill," Stewart replied, ignoring the curtness of her tone and speaking loudly enough to raise Harry's eyebrows again. "But if you feel you have to go and kowtow to Frank Burnside, you do that." Without waiting for a further response, he gestured to someone standing behind her and, with a quick kiss to her cheek, he was gone.

"Fine," she said to no-one. "That's just...fine."

XXXX

The boy was nervous, but he was doing a fairly good job of hiding it. Despite being asked again, he had refused the services of a lawyer and seemed happy to go into interview completely unprotected. This unnerved Frank slightly, but as Ted pushed the tapes into the machine and it beeped into life, he decided simply to plough on.

"Taped interview with Peter Milton on Friday 23rd July 1988. Officers present are Detective Inspector Burnside and Detective Sergeant Roach." He sat forward. "Can you state your full name for the tape please Peter?"

"Peter John Milton."

"And your date of birth?"

"16th March 1971."

"So you've not long turned seventeen Peter, is that right?" Peter nodded. "Now you've been cautioned already Peter, but I'll just remind you that you do not have to say anything unless you wish to do so but anything you do say may be given in evidence, do you understand?" Peter nodded again. "Good. Now you're quite sure you don't want a solicitor?"

"I don't want one," Peter said hurriedly.

"That's fine," Frank said. "So, what can you tell us about the robbery at the Canley Building Society earlier today?"

Peter looked away. "Nothing."

"Well we caught you there," Ted said. "Coming out, wearing a balaclava and carrying a baseball bat."

"So?"

"So, I'm not one for being in the building society often, but I'm pretty sure those aren't what one usually wears." Peter said nothing. "What were you doing there?"

"Do you know Tommy Fulton?" Frank asked, and Peter started slightly in his chair. "I'll take it by your reaction that you do. You know we caught him at the building society too? Wearing a balaclava like you, only he had a shotgun instead of a baseball bat."

"So what?"

"So, maybe you're not as involved in this as the others," Frank said. "You only had a baseball bat. Maybe you were just supposed to stand by the door and look threatening. Maybe that's why you didn't have a shotgun. I mean, it sounds plausible, doesn't it?"

"Does to me," Ted said. "What do you think, Peter?" The boy shrugged. "What about the others that got away?"

"What others?"

"There were three other men involved in the robbery," Ted said, "but they managed to escape. If you were prepared to give us their names..."

"Why would I do that?" Peter asked, clearly mustering up as much bravado as he could.

"Might help when it comes to sentencing," Frank said. "The judge would be pleased to hear that you'd been helpful." Peter muttered something under his breath. "I'm sorry Peter, I didn't quite catch that."

Peter sat forwards in his chair, "I said, get stuffed."

XXXX

"Well that went very well," Frank said as Bob Cryer locked Peter Milton back in his cell. "So much for helpful cooperation. Speaking of which..."

"I'll try calling him again," Ted said. "Failing that, I'll take a trip to his gaff. What do you want to do about Fulton? His brief's in the front office."

Frank checked his watch, "Hours left on the PACE deadline yet. Let's leave him to stew a bit longer." A door banged behind him and, turning, he saw Christina coming down the corridor towards them. "Well, look who it is. Is it tomorrow yet?" he asked, glancing at his watch, "only I thought I had a bit longer before I had to see you again."

"Very funny," she said. "Stewart and his mates were all heading down the pub so I thought I'd come and see how things went this afternoon."

"Dressed like that?"

"Well I wasn't going to go home and change. So...how did it go?"

Frank shook his head, "You fill her in, Ted. I'm not sure I can bear it."

"That bad?" Christina asked as he took the stairs two at a time away from them. "I thought your information was solid?"

"So did I," Ted replied. "Only it turns out that there were more people involved than we were led to believe and three of them got away."

"Oh dear."

"To say he's pissed off is putting it mildly. Anyway," he looked at her. "Good day was it?"

"Oh, yes it was lovely," she lied. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I doubt it. Keep your head down or go home. I know which one I would recommend."

He disappeared into the toilets so Christina climbed the stairs to CID. She should, probably, have just turned around and gone home as per Ted's suggestion, especially since she was technically on annual leave. But when she had run out the door the previous night, her in-tray had been overflowing so she knew it wouldn't hurt to take a quick look.

It was a mistake. The office was empty save for Frank who was standing at her desk going through her tray. It wasn't the first time she had seen him do it and she knew why.

"Lot of work to be done," he said, as she was turning to head back down the stairs. "Problem with prioritising?"

"No Guv," she replied. "I've just been really busy, that's all. I was in court two days last week and..."

"And out socialising today," he finished for her.

"It was hardly..." she broke off. Her thoughts about the day were none of his business. "I didn't really have much choice about today."

"No?" he turned to look at her. "Well I suppose he would have taken the day off too if it had been you receiving the commendation. There's statements in here that go back to the Melton Street assault."

"I know..."

"They should have been with CPS two weeks ago."

"I _know_..."

"Something tells me, that you've not been pulling your weight, Constable. Something tells me that you've been coasting along, quite content with your lot. Something tells me, that Roy Galloway let you get away with far more than he should have."

"That's not fair," Christina argued. "Not to mention it's not true."

"But then I suppose, being the only woman in CID must be difficult. People always thinking you should be in uniform, back on the beat. Always thinking you're never going to be as good as the boys..."

"I _am_ as good as the boys and I have _always_ pulled my weight!"

"Well right now, it's not good enough!" Frank stepped closer to her. "When Derek Conway offered me this job and I asked about who would be working under me, he told me that you were an asset to the team. Sometimes I wonder. For the record, I am _not_ Roy Galloway, so whatever favours you got from him, you won't get from me. You do your job or you piss off." He looked her up and down in that way that made her want to scream. "Maybe you'd be better off back in uniform. Or maybe your talents lie elsewhere. Like being at home and pushing out a few kids."

"And everyone told me that you were a womanising, patronising, conniving bastard but I was prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt!" she snapped before she could stop herself. "Sometimes _I_ wonder! Maybe if I flattered you ego and flirted with you a bit more you might get off my back!"

"Don't flatter yourself darling. I don't need the Drugs Squad's cast offs." He stepped back. "I want those statements with CPS before you leave tonight, annual leave or no annual leave. Can you manage that?" Indignation choked her, preventing her from doing anything beyond nodding. "Good. And we'll just put this little outburst down to PMT, shall we?"

"Bastard," she muttered as he retreated to his office and closed the door. "Utter sodding bastard."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Two**

 **14** **th** **August 1988**

"You know something Chris? I'm really sick of listening to you moaning about that man. Anyone would think there were three of us in this marriage the way you go on about him."

Christina paused, toast halfway to mouth. "I don't _go on about him_."

"You do and, believe me, it gets a bit wearing after a while." Stewart looked up from where he was hunting around in a drawer and raised his eyebrows. "Burnside this, Burnside that. This is what he said to me today, isn't it ridiculous..." he shook his head. "We all have crap bosses, but you just need to get on with it."

"Well thanks very much for the support. I suppose you think it's fine the way he speaks to me, not to mention the way he treats me, which, by the way, he wouldn't do if I was male." She shook her head vigorously. "Honestly, sometimes I just wish..."

"There you go again," he interrupted her. "It's not even 9am and you're on about him. Look, I have to go or I'm going to be late. I'm not sure what time I'll be home tonight."

"So what else is new?" she grumbled. "And you're the one who keeps banging on about trying for another baby. You're never bloody here!"

He bent and kissed her quickly on the cheek. "I'll try and not be too late. Maybe we could have a go when I get in."

"How romantic," she said to his retreating form. The front door slammed and he was gone. As she sat in the silence, she thought back to the conversation they had had at the weekend about trying for a family. Stewart had thought it was a great idea, though deep down she suspected he was looking for a way, any way, to get her out of CID. There was no real reason why they shouldn't try, and after all, she had become pregnant by accident once already, but the Sergeant exam was coming up in January and she had been thinking of applying. Maybe promotion could get her away from Frank.

The very thought of him made her mood darken even more but, checking the clock, she realised she would be late if she sat around any longer and once in the car with the radio blasting she started to feel slightly better. The heat of July had cooled but it was still very pleasant outside and the sun was shining, enough to put anyone in a good mood.

It didn't last. Two minutes after setting foot inside the station, he had been on her like a limpet. "What time do you call this?" he demanded, looking at his watch as she came into the office. "Working on Christina time are we?"

"I'm not late," she replied, slinging her jacket onto the rack and putting her bag down on her desk. "In fact, I'm actually three minutes early."

"Bully for you," Frank said. "Don't sit down, we've got work to do."

"I've got plenty to be doing sitting down, actually," she replied, gesturing to her an in-tray that never seemed to get empty.

"Yeah well we need to go and see one of my snouts."

Christina frowned, "We?"

"Yes _we_." He tossed his car keys in the air. "You got a problem with that?"

"No, but you usually like to take these meetings on your own, don't you?"

"Yeah, but I could do with some feminine charm," he raised his eyebrows suggestively, "and Alfie's going to love you."

"Alfie Dobbs?" Jim Carver queried from his desk. "What's he been up to?"

"It's what he can tell us that I'm more interested in," Frank replied. "That's what being a snout is all about."

"Well can't I go with you Guv?" Jim asked. "I could do with some fresh air after looking at these post mortem pictures. You've no idea how depressing it is to..."

"No you can't," Frank interrupted. "You need to finish that report before I have some baboon from CPS giving me grief about it. Madam here can come with me. Like I said, I need some feminine charm and you're sorely lacking in that area."

"You could always ask Fraser if you could take June or Viv," Christina said, in a last ditch attempt to avoid being alone with him. "I've really got a lot to be getting on with and if I don't..."

"I am _not_ taking June or Viv," Frank said. "Now will you just get your jacket so we can get on with it? I don't have all day to stand around here arguing with a hormonal female."

Before she could reply, he had left the room and she was forced to grab her bag and jacket and follow him, at speed, down the stairs, along the corridor and out into the car park. "What's the rush?" she demanded as he opened the car door.

"I thought you said you had lots of work to do?"

"I do."

"Then the sooner we get there, the sooner we can get back and you can get on with it," he reasoned, "so get in."

Christina did as she was bidden and for the first five minutes of the journey she was spared having to make conversation with him as he argued with Tom Penny over the radio about a suspect brought in the previous night and whether or not anyone from CID was remotely interested in dealing with him. As she watched the scenery go by out of the window, she wondered what Stewart was doing. No doubt _his_ boss hadn't demanded he accompany him to see a snout, or referred to him as hormonal.

"So," Frank said once the issue was sorted to his satisfaction. "Got any plans for the weekend?"

"Erm...no, not at the moment," she replied, slightly bemused by the question. "I think Stewart might be working."

"Oh I see."

"What?"

"Well I had you down as the type of couple that might enjoy a nice meal out on a Saturday night or a drink in a posh wine bar with friends, that sort of thing."

"What do you think we are, yuppies?" He didn't say anything. "Stewart prefers the local boozer actually."

"What about you?"

She shrugged, "I don't mind."

"Do you always go where he wants to go?"

"No," she replied, slightly offended by the insinuation he was making. "Anyway, what are _your_ plans for the weekend, or am I not allowed to ask?"

"Don't you worry about me," he replied cryptically. "I'm never lonely."

"No, I would imagine you wouldn't be. If it moves..." Frank glanced at her but said nothing. "Anyway, what are we going to see this Alfie Dobbs bloke about that needs my _feminine charm_?"

"He rang this morning and told me he's got some information about a drugs shipment." "Sounds mysterious. What else did he say?"

"Well he obviously wasn't going to give me the whole story without seeing the colour of my money, was he?" Frank said.

"But you trust him enough to make the call."

"He's been a good snout to me over the years. Always keeping his eyes and ears open. Knows which side he's bread's buttered, that sort of thing." He glanced at her. "About time you got yourself one or two if you plan on hanging around in CID."

Her hackles rose again, "Why wouldn't I be hanging around?"

"Well you're not getting any younger. Like I said to you before, maybe it's time you were pushing out a few kids." Frank pulled the car to a halt at the edge of the park and switched off the engine. "I mean, what are you? Twenty-six?"

"Twenty-eight," she replied, "not that that's..."

"Well it's worse than I thought. Better get a move on." Without a trace of embarrassment, he got out of the car forcing her to follow suit if she wanted to say anything else. "He said he'd be waiting under the bridge. Nothing if not clandestine is Alfie."

"What makes you think I even want kids?" Christina demanded, falling into step beside him, "Or that I can even have them for that matter?"

"Well, can you?"

"Can I what?"

"Have kids."

"Well I...I mean I managed to get pregnant once before but..." she broke off quickly, not knowing why she had said so much or why she was even having this conversation with him.

"But?"

"Do you know something, this is absolutely _none_ of your business!" she found her indignation. "You wouldn't be having this sort of conversation with Ted or Jim now, would you?"

"Christ no, can you imagine thinking about little Carvers and Roaches?"

"So what makes you think it's appropriate to be having it with me?"

Frank stopped and turned to face her. "I was just making conversation DC Lewis. No need to get your fine expensive French knickers in a twist."

"You know something, _sir,_ the way you speak to me is..."

"Is what? Disrespectful to you as a woman? Get over it darling. You'll need to if you want to make it in this job and something tells me you've heard far worse."

As he walked away from her towards the bridge in question, Christina had to stop herself from thinking how easy it would be just to push him off it. _Oh he slipped,_ she would tell the others, her tone full of shock and sadness, _there was nothing I could do..._

"You coming or not?" he called back to her.

"Yes sir," she muttered under her breath, "coming sir."

XXXX

"He said what?" Jim spluttered over his sandwich in the canteen. "What did you say?"

"There wasn't much I could say," Christina replied. "But, do you know, I finally realised that I've been going about this all the wrong way."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, letting him get to me all the time. Clearly he's hoping I'll get so sick of his attitude that I'll quit or something and then he won't have to worry about having a _hormonal female_ in CID."

"Would you?"

"And give him the satisfaction, don't be daft." She drained her coffee. "I was thinking about taking the Sergeant's exam in January though and then, if I get it, I'd be transferred."

"You can't leave Sun Hill," Jim said. "More importantly, you can't leave me with _him_."

"You'd be all right, you're a bloke. He's not on at _you_ about getting pregnant or being hormonal."

"You know," he dipped his head so that only she could hear. "You could make an official complaint about him."

"Oh yeah?"

"I'm serious. I mean surely the kinds of things he's saying could be, well I don't know, sexual harassment or something. Given you're the only woman in CID I mean."

"So what do you suggest I do, Jim? Go to Brownlow and tell him I'm offended by Burnside suggesting I get pregnant? Leave it out. They'd laugh me out of the Met never mind Sun Hill. No..." she nodded thoughtfully. "I just need to toughen up a bit, fight fire with fire, that sort of thing. I worked bloody hard to get to where I am right now and I'm not going to let _him_ ruin it for me. God I miss Galloway and that's saying something."

"When he said about you getting pregnant...did you tell him about the miscarriage?"

"No," she made a face. "Why would I? It was three years ago. Anyway," she stood up. "I'd better get on. He's got me chasing up leads on the strength of the info we got from Alfie this morning."

"Good was it?"

"Well the Fuhrer seemed pleased," she replied, "and I guess that's all that matters."

XXXX

"Well?" Frank demanded when she returned to his office an hour or so later. "Did you get anything from the collator?"

"Nick Fisher and Ralph Metcalfe," she replied, placing two cards down on the desk in front of him. "Both have previous for possession with intent to supply, both live on the Cockcroft estate and Metcalfe just got out of jail two weeks ago."

"So Alfie was right."

"So it would appear. Metcalfe owns a lock up at the back of Dorrell Road so chances are, that's where the drugs are right now. If Alfie was right about the arrangements, then the exchange is likely to take place tonight or early tomorrow."

"Well they won't do it in Dorrell Road, it's too public," Frank observed. "They'd have to move the drugs somewhere more discrete before the handover."

"According to PNC, Metcalfe owns a six year old blue Ford van though it's apparently SORN'd at the moment due to him being inside. I asked one of the units to take a quick spin round the Cockcroft and they said it was parked outside his flat."

"Right, what about the buyer?"

"David Nelson..." she shook her head. "Nothing on him at all, not even an address. Maybe Alfie got the name wrong?"

"No," Frank said, "he seemed very sure, even if was crawling all over you at the time."

"Hardly," she replied, thinking back to what can only be described as a very pleasant conversation with an older man in a leather jacket with clearly dyed hair. "Anyway, I've been thinking."

"Dangerous pastime for you ladies."

"Should we let the Drugs Squad know?"

"And have them take this away from us? No chance!"

"But..."

"Do you want to hand this to your hubby on a plate?" he stood up. "Set him up for another commendation or suchlike? Maybe you do, but _I_ don't. This is going to be a Sun Hill operation. We'll set up an obbo on the lock up, follow the drugs and nick all three of them, or however many there are involved, when they make the exchange. So, better get yourself settled in for a long evening. I'll square it with Mr Conway."

"Right," she said as he left her standing in the office.

XXXX

"You didn't have to phone me at work to tell me this," Stewart said, his tone clipped. "I would have gathered if you weren't at home when I got back that something had come up."

"So you wouldn't have automatically assumed I'd been in some sort of accident then?" Christina queried, slightly put out by his lack of concern.

"No, I wouldn't. We don't all live on drama, Chris."

"I don't..."

"Look, I was going to be late myself anyway. Why don't we just say we'll see each other when we see each other? It's not that difficult, other married couples seem to manage."

"And there was me thinking you would be expecting me to be at home making your tea," she retorted.

"Oh grow up," he said. "If you've got some sort of guilt complex about working late that's on you, don't make it about me."

"What is wrong with you?" she asked, genuinely confused by his attitude. "Has something happened at work?"

"No, I'm just incredibly busy and I need to get back. I'll see you whenever." The dial tone buzzed in her ear and she realised he had hung up.

"Wow," she said replacing the receiver."

"Problem?" Mike Dashwood asked from his desk opposite.

"Do you something, the longer I know him the less I think I know him sometimes."

"Stewart?" She nodded. "Well he's all big and important in the squad isn't he? What is it, two commendations in the last year? I suppose his wife phoning to enquire about his schedule doesn't exactly fit his image."

"I wasn't phoning to enquire about his schedule, I was phoning to let him know I wouldn't be home, a courtesy I would have thought most couples would afford to each other in this sort of situation. Clearly, I'm wrong." Looking down at the papers on her desk, she lifted a report from the top. "Oh, well here's some good news."

"What's that?"

"Fingerprints from the building society job last month. They've matched Tommy Fulton and another bloke, Victor McDonald."

"Never heard of him."

"Me neither, but it should make the boss happy to know we've got something for that job. Is he still in with Conway?"

"Last I heard."

"Right," Christina lifted the phone, "let's see if the collator's got anything on our mystery man."

XXXX

"Are you sure the information's good, Frank?" Derek Conway asked suspiciously. "I mean, how reliable is this snout of yours?"

"He's one of the best," Frank replied. "He's never given me a bum steer yet and I don't see why he would now. All I need is a couple of uniforms to help with the arrest."

"And my sanction on overtime for how many from CID?"

"Well Jim, Chris and Mike should do it."

"Half the department then." Derek sat down at his desk. "I don't want another cock up Frank. Not after the building society job."

Frank smarted slightly, "Yes well we're still pursuing lines of enquiry on that. Tommy Fulton is still in the frame."

"I hope so. Otherwise a lot of time and money was wasted on nothing." Derek sighed. "I'll talk to Inspector Fraser and get you some bodies for tonight. What time are you wanting to start?"

"Nine o'clock."

"Fine. But I mean it Frank. I want a result on this."

"Yes sir," Frank turned for the door. "Oh and in case anyone asks, I did consider whether the Drugs Squad should be informed but I don't believe it's necessary."

Derek raised his eyebrows. "Who came up with that idea?"

"One guess. But then, she is married to one of them." Closing the office door behind him he made his way back along the corridor towards CID only to meet a smiling Christina at the door. For a moment, he paused. It wasn't often she directed any such expressions towards him and, he had to admit, she was quite pretty in a way. "What are you grinning about?"

"Forensic results from the building society," she said, waving a piece of paper at him. "Fingerprints match Tommy Fulton."

"What, inside?" he grabbed the paper from her.

"Yup, on the top of the counter and the underside, so if he was thinking of suggesting that he left them there whilst being a legitimate customer..."

"He'd have no excuse for them being underneath." Frank grinned at her. "Do you know something, I could kiss you for this!"

Christina's face dropped. "Please don't do that, sir. I really don't want to have to report you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Three**

"Did you mean what you said earlier?"

Christina turned from where she had been looking out of the window into the inky black night surrounding Dorrell Road and frowned. "What?"

"Did you mean what you said earlier?"

"About what?"

"About reporting me."

She paused, wondering for a moment what Frank was referring to, then remembered the conversation when he had said he could kiss her over news of Tommy Fulton's fingerprints. "No, of course not."

"Good. Wouldn't do your career much good you know...making complaints about senior officers."

She rolled her eyes. "I know that, I'm not simple."

"Anyway," he shifted in his seat. "I could report you."

"Me? For what?"

"For the comment you made earlier about me and anything that moves."

She snorted back a laugh, waiting for him to share the joke and finding herself left wanting by his silence. "Are you being serious?"

He turned to look at her, his face half hidden by shadow, "I'm deadly serious, darling. I don't like having my character besmirched by idle gossip."

"Your...am in some sort of parallel universe?" she asked, choosing not to take him on as to whether it was idle gossip or, in fact, truth. He wasn't exactly known for his subtlety when it came to the women in the station he had tried to crack onto. "One where it's ok for you to say anything you like to me and about me but I can't reciprocate?"

"It's called rank," he replied. "You'd do well to remember that."

Christina sighed heavily and turned her attention back to the lock up a few hundred yards away. Two hours they had been sitting watching it and for two hours nothing had happened, nothing had stirred and she had been forced to make small talk with Frank. She had hoped to be paired with Jim, even Mike, but no. She had definitely drawn the short straw and once all work related chat had dried up, things had started to get personal. "I can hardly forget that you're my DI, sir, now can I?"

"Maybe it's because you're married to a detective sergeant," Frank observed. "I'm guessing he doesn't make you call him sir at home...or maybe he does in certain rooms..."

"Yes you're quite right. He likes to handcuff me to the bed and spank me while I call him sir, master, God..."

"All right, I don't need to know your kinky sex secrets." He shifted again. "All this sitting about is going to play havoc with my bad back. What the hell are they doing anyway? Why has nothing happened?" He lifted his radio. "Burnside to Dashwood, over."

"Dashwood receiving."

"Anything happening on your side, Michael?"

"Not a sniff, Guv."

"Brilliant. If Alfie's given me the runaround so help me God I'll swing for him." He tossed the radio back onto the dashboard and settled back in the seat. "So what's hubby doing tonight then?"

"Working," she replied.

"Must be tricky. Both of you in the job, both working shifts...can't be easy finding time to spend together."

"We manage."

"Most police marriages don't last, you do know that don't you?"

She rolled her eyes again, "I didn't actually, but thanks for letting me know."

"How long have you been married now?"

"Eight years."

"You must have been a child bride, young and naive."

Christina turned to look at him again, "As opposed to you, Guv? Old and jaded?"

"Burnside from Dashwood, over." Mike's voice crackled over the radio, sparing her from Frank's reply. "There's movement on this end. A blue Ford van making its way along Dorrell Road in your direction, over."

"Received, over." Frank replied. "About bloody time."

They sat in heightened silence, waiting as the van came into sight. As it approached the lock ups, its headlights darkened and it slowed to a stop. Through the darkness, Christina could make out two figures in the front. "Metcalfe and Fisher?"

"Probably."

Both doors opened and the men jumped out. One stood by the van while the other made his way over to the lock up and sprung the door open. A few seconds later, he reappeared carrying a box which he then placed in the back of the van before re-entering the lock up and repeating the process.

"He's doing all the heavy lifting whichever one he is," Christina observed. "Number Two's just stood there like a twat." After the fifth box had been placed in the van she glanced at Frank. "You want to nick them now or follow them?"

"What do you think?" he replied. "We might as well catch them in the act of supplying." The van door slid shut and the first man closed the door of the lock up. "They must be finished. All units from Burnside. Looks like the transfer is complete. We're going to follow the van at a distance. Ramsay and Haynes, you stay back here and keep an eye on the lock up and let us know if there's any other movement. Garfield, Yorkie, stay behind us."

"Yes Guv," Pete Ramsay's voice came over the radio, sounding less than thrilled at being left behind.

The van snapped on its headlights and began reversing back along Dorrell Road. "Mike, he's heading back towards you and Jim," Frank said. "Follow at a distance. We'll be behind you."

"Received," Mike replied.

Christina felt a frisson of excitement as Frank started the engine. There was something about being moments away from a big collar that always gave her shivers. It was as if all the regular shit didn't matter if you could have moments like this. Slowly, they made their way along Dorrell Road in time to see Mike's taillights disappear around the corner. Staying close, but not too close, they followed as the van led them through Canley and out towards the docks. "What if there's a ship or something?" she said. "This could be huge."

"Keep your knickers dry."

"They're bone dry, thanks."

They lapsed into silence again as, ahead, the van drew up alongside an iron gate and stopped. Mike pulled in behind another parked vehicle with Frank following suit. As the van doors opened and both men got out, Christina realised she was holding her breath. They moved to the back doors, appearing to be in conversation with each other, then both lit up cigarettes, the butts glowing in the darkness.

"They must be waiting for a buyer," Frank said. The words had no sooner left his lips when another van came down the road past them and pulled in alongside. "Run a PNC."

Christina lifted the radio and hurriedly called in the registration. "They're not exactly in a hurry," she commented as a third man got out of the second van and stood speaking to Metcalfe and Fisher.

"WDC Lewis from Sierra Oscar, over."

"Go ahead, over."

"Registration Delta Alpha Six Four, Romeo Hotel Hotel is showing to a grey Ford transit van. Registered owner is a David Nelson, 43 Latimer Gardens, over."

"Received. Recognise the name?"

Frank shook his head, "You?"

"Nope."

Suddenly, both sets of men opened their respective van doors and Metcalfe and Fisher began moving the boxes over, the third man standing back to watch. As the last box was being placed in the back of the grey van, Frank called it.

"All units, go, go, go!"

Christina leapt out of the passenger seat and ran towards the vans, mere moments behind Mike and Jim as George and Yorkie screamed up the road in the patrol car. Metcalfe and Fisher went one way, Nelson the other, slipping out of Jim's grip as he lunged for his jacket. Losing his footing gave her the advantage and, as he sought to leap over the gate, Christina grabbed him, pulling him back down and intending to put him on the ground.

"Police! You're under arrest..." before she could finish the sentence, he swung out of her grip, turned to face her and punched her squarely in the face, causing her to fall to the ground. Her ears starting buzzing and, for a moment, it felt as though he had broken her jaw. She could hear scuffling and shouting around her and then felt herself being pulled upright.

"You all right?! Chris, are you all right?!" Jim's face swam in front of her.

"Yeah..." she heard herself say, "yeah I'm ok..." she clutched onto his arm and then bent forwards, pressing her hand to the side of her face. "Jesus...did we get them?"

"All three in cuffs. You should sit down..." Jim propelled her towards the back of one of the vans and she sat down heavily on the step. "You sure you're all right?"

"She's fine," Frank said, coming up behind them. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," she replied, squinting at him.

"Good. Let's get this lot back to the nick then."

Jim took her arm again and helped her up. "All heart, isn't he?"

XXXX

"You wanting to see the police casualty surgeon?" Bob Cryer asked, pointing at Christina's face as he finished processing the last of the three prisoners.

"No, it's fine," she replied, touching her jaw. "I'll live."

"Which one was it?"

"Nelson," Frank replied. "So you'd better add police assault onto the charge sheet."

"As long as I'm not adding on a complaint," Bob said.

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning he's got a busted nose, or did you miss all the blood?"

"He resisted arrest," Frank said. "Goes with the territory." He turned to look at her again. "You sure you're all right?"

"Well I'm not dead so let's take that as a win, yeah?"

"Well if you're sure..."

"Excuse me Guv," Tony said, sticking his head around the door. "There's a DS Church in the front office looking for you and WDC Lewis."

"Stewart?" Christina queried.

"Uh, yeah..." Tony said, clearly embarrassed. "He didn't look very happy."

A niggle started at the back of Christina's mind and when she looked at Frank she knew he was thinking the same thing she was. Wordlessly, she followed him out of custody and through the corridors to the front office where Tony gestured to the interview room.

Stewart's face was white with anger and when she opened the door and saw him, Christina was convinced, for a split second, that he wasn't her husband.

"Well, well, DS Church," Frank said, closing the door behind him. "To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"I want to know what the hell you thought you were playing at," Stewart demanded.

"What are you on about?"

"I'm referring to you nicking David Nelson."

Christina frowned, "How do you know about that?"

"I'll tell you how I know," Stewart stepped forwards, his face inches from hers. "I know because we've been watching him for four months! Round the clock surveillance! So we couldn't really miss you bunch of hillbillies storming in and arresting him now, could we!"

"Now hang on a minute," Frank moved slightly in front of her, forcing Stewart to step back. "We received legitimate information about a drugs shipment on our patch. There were no memos from your department circulated stating you had any major operations going on Sun Hill ground so it's hardly our fault if we do our jobs!"

"And when you got this _legitimate information_ none of you thought of calling us to find out if we were even interested?"

"No, we didn't!" Christina said, shocked at his aggression. "Why would we?"

"Because it should have been obvious from the fact that Nelson was an unknown quantity to you that this was bigger than your little station! I don't give a damn about his little sidekicks Metcalfe and Fisher. For all I care you can sling the book at them, but I want Nelson released."

"No chance," Frank scoffed. "He was caught red handed receiving what looks to be heroin with a street value in excess of two hundred thousand pounds, not to mention he's responsible for doing that to her face," he gestured to Christina. "He's going nowhere except jail."

"You don't get it do you?" Stewart sneered. "Nelson isn't the end of the chain. He's a small fish in a very big pond, only we need the small fish to tempt the big fish. Our operation is vast and long running and isn't anywhere near completion so you'd better find a reason to get Nelson out on bail and hope to God he goes ahead with the next part of the operation or I'll be going to your Governor!"

"I think you're forgetting yourself _Sergeant_ ," Frank snapped. "Don't you come into _my_ nick and read me the riot act like I was a beat constable fresh out of Hendon!"

"Your rank doesn't impress me," Stewart said. "I've heard too many stories from this one to owe you any respect." He gestured carelessly at Christina. "Now, like I said, I want Nelson bailed and I want him bailed within the hour..."

"Or what?" Frank asked.

"Or, like I said, I'm going to your Governor and I really don't think you want the squad making a stink about this when you're not that long in the job. You don't exactly have the best reputation as it is, _Inspector._ " Without any further recourse, he stormed out of the room, letting the door slam behind him.

Christina felt shell-shocked. She had never seen Stewart so angry, never heard him berate a senior officer like that, not to mention that part of her was slightly hurt that he clearly hadn't given a toss for the fact that she had been injured, minor though it was. Glancing at Frank, she could tell he was furious. "I...I'm sorry."

"For what?" he turned to look at her. "For the way he spoke to me? For the way he spoke to you? Or for him letting slip that you've been telling tales about me."

"I haven't..." he threw open the door and left the room before she could finish, leaving her trailing in his wake along the corridor. "I haven't been telling tales!"

"Listen," he rounded on her. "I couldn't care less what you say about me over the dinner table or the duvet but I most definitely _do_ care about a jumped up sergeant coming in here and having a pop at me because of my relationship with you!"

"We don't have a relationship!"

"I'm not talking about that sort of relationship, Christina. I'm talking about the fact that your husband wouldn't have come barrelling in here like that if you didn't work for me! Maybe he thought it would be a turn on for you. That you'd get all hot and sweaty seeing him trying to get one over on me!"

"Well he thought bloody wrong if he's under the impression I get turned on by being screamed at too!"

"Yeah well..." Frank said, "He wasn't exactly falling over himself about your face either. Doesn't he care if you get injured on the job?"

"Of course he does," she replied, her tone more indignant than she felt.

"If you were _my_ wife, I'd be wanting to crack Nelson's skull open, not have him released!"

"If I was your wife..." she stopped herself quickly, before she said something she really couldn't come back from.

"Yes?"

"Nothing. Look, what are we going to do about Nelson?"

"We're going to bang him up, drugs squad or no drugs squad. Or do you suggest we just roll over and let them have their way?"

Christina paused. "No."

"Right then. Let's get him interviewed and once we've done that we'll ask for a remand and go home."

XXXX

"I've had a very irate DS Church from the Drugs Squad on the phone," Derek said two hours later after a predictable no comment interview from Nelson. "Though I would imagine that both of you would be aware of that. Now what the hell's been going on?"

"One of the men we nicked, David Nelson," Frank said. "It turns out the squad have been watching him. Looks like he's a courier. DS Church wanted him bailed so that he would hopefully carry on with the rest of the delivery and the squad could nail his buyer."

"Oh terrific," Derek said. "But instead, you've kept him locked up."

"He was caught with a large amount of drugs, sir," Christina said. "Letting him out on bail would have looked suspicious if nothing else."

"She's right," Frank said. "Any chance the squad had of him carrying on with the deal evaporated the moment we, legitimately might I add, nicked him."

"DI Burnside told me that you suggested we notify the drugs squad after the initial information came in," Derek said to Christina pointedly. "Sounds like that might have been a very good idea, don't you think so Frank?"

"With hindsight, sir..."

"No," Christina interrupted. "We did the right thing, sir. A crime was going to be committed on our patch and we stopped it. We shouldn't have to apologise for that."

Derek looked between them both. "Well I'll have to have a word with DS Church's senior officer and see if we can't smooth things over. There's no point in having poor relations with the squad."

"Thank you sir," Frank replied.

"Don't thank me, Frank, just make sure this sticks. Otherwise, I'm going to be coming after _you._ "

"Sir." Frank held the door open for Christina and then closed it behind them both. "I suppose you expect me to thank you."

"For what?"

"For backing me up over not calling in the squad in the first place."

"Forget it."

"Now you listen..." he stepped in front of her. "I don't need you coming to my rescue or whatever you thought you were doing in there. If you still believe we should have called them when Alfie gave us the information, then at least have the courage of your convictions to say that."

She stared at him. "What, even if...?"

"Even if," he said. "I can look after myself when it comes to the senior management team here, ok?"

"Fine," she said. "If that's how you want it to be."

"It is. Anyway, you should go home and try to make things up to hubby. Maybe call him 'sir' a few times to get back in his good books."

Christina made a face at him, "Very funny. Anyway, uniform have apparently picked Tommy Fulton up. I figured we could interview him about the fingerprints and this Victor McDonald bloke."

Frank shook his head, "Ted and I can do it in the morning. You look dead on your feet."

"I'm fine."

"Go home."

"You've been here as long as I have."

"I don't have a face like that though, do I?" he pointed to her face. "You're going to start feeling it soon and it's not exactly the image we want to project in an interview is it?"

She smiled wanly, "I suppose not. I'll see you tomorrow then or rather..." she checked her watch, "later today."

"Yeah," he turned towards the stairs then turned back. "By the way..."

"What?"

"Why did you lie to Stewart about suggesting we get the squad involved? You could have scored yourself some points with him if you'd been truthful."

Christina met his gaze. "I wanted to back the right team."

"And he wasn't the right team?"

"On this occasion, no."

Frank smiled at her, "Now you know why most police marriages don't last."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Four**

 **16** **th** **November 1988**

"This is a bloody waste of time," Frank moaned, throwing the newspaper down onto the coffee table. "I've got better things to do with my time than be sitting around here waiting to give evidence in some poxy trial that should have been a guilty plea all day long! I mean, what are the defence playing at? How can they possibly think that they're going to get Nelson off? Especially with Metcalfe and Fisher turning Queen's evidence against him. Lunacy, that's what it is. Sheer bloody lunacy!"

"Have you finished?" Jim asked. "Only I am stuck here too you know."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Jim. Perhaps the CPS will decide your evidence is irrelevant."

"Well that would just be brilliant, wouldn't it? After me being sat here all morning with jobs piled in my tray a foot high."

"What is taking so long?" Frank got to his feet and started pacing up and down the witness room. "How long can it possibly take to tell the court what happened?"

"She's got to give evidence about the assault too."

"Oh, well maybe she's embellishing it."

"I doubt it." Jim lifted the discarded paper and scanned the headlines. "Did she seem all right to you this morning?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, did she seem all right?"

"No different than her usual self, why?"

"No reason."

Frank sat back down. "Is there something I should know?"

"No."

"Then why are you asking me if she seemed all right?"

"I dunno...it was just...an observation," Jim said. "I thought she just seemed a bit...off this morning."

"Huh..." Frank lifted his by now cold coffee cup and tossed it into the nearest bin. "PMT no doubt. Pretty Miserable Tart."

XXXX

"So what you're saying, Detective Constable Lewis, is that my client might have had no understanding or knowledge that you were, in fact, a police officer when he unfortunately struck you."

Christina ran her hand over her eyes and took a deep breath before answering the defence lawyer's question. She wasn't sure how many times she needed to answer the same point before they got the message. "No, that's not what I'm saying. When we exited our vehicles we identified ourselves as police officers."

"Perhaps in all the kerfuffle, Mr Nelson didn't hear you."

"He heard us. That's why he started to run away."

"And that's when you claim that he punched you in the face."

"It's not a _claim,_ it's a fact."

"Yes, quite." The lawyer paused and consulted the papers on the table in front of her. "Were you aware at the time of your operation that the area drugs squad had an interest in Mr Nelson?"

Christina glanced at Nelson in the dock, his expression impassive but his gaze level with her own. "Not at the time, no."

"When did you become aware of it?"

"After we had arrested Mr Nelson and taken him back to Sun Hill station for processing."

"And how did you become aware of it?"

"Detective Sergeant Church of the drugs squad attended at the station and advised us."

"Yes..." the lawyer smiled. "DS Church hadn't thought to advise you earlier? Over breakfast perhaps? Or in bed the night before?"

"Objection!" the prosecution lawyer got to his feet. "There is no relevance to this."

"It'll become relevant," Nelson's lawyer assured the judge who waved for her to continue. "Constable?"

"If you're referring to the fact that DS Church and I are married then no, he didn't tell me anything about his interest in Mr Nelson at any time prior to Mr Nelson's arrest." She tried to keep her irritation hidden, but could tell by the tone of her own voice that she had failed.

"I imagine he wasn't too pleased at you disrupting his investigation."

Christina shuffled slightly in the box. It was a bloody understatement to say the least. Mr Conway had held fast in the face of pressure from both Stewart and his own boss at the squad and refused to release Nelson to allow him to complete his business. It had been a source of great annoyance for Stewart and one that he had brought up often in the three months since. "No he wasn't."

"But I'm sure all was forgiven later on in the course of marital relations."

Christina opened her mouth to protest but the prosecution lawyer beat her to it and the judge upheld the objection.

"Constable..." the lawyer smiled at her. "Were you aware that Mr Nelson had previously lodged a complaint against your husband for harassment?"

XXXX

"He what?!"

"You heard me the first time."

"Well I want to hear you say it again so I know my hearing isn't going in my old age!"

Christina sighed, "Apparently, David Nelson had made an official complaint against Stewart accusing him of harassing him."

"When?"

"Twice over the summer. Before we nicked him."

"Oh well that's just brilliant!" Frank snapped. "And what exactly are the defence trying to make out of that?"

"That the entire operation has been some sort of set up... I don't know..." she ran a hand through her hair. "I did my best to deflect it, push the point that we had no knowledge of the squad's involvement but...I looked at the jury and I know they didn't buy it."

"No doubt the minute it was mentioned that he was your husband they were thinking all sorts of lurid things, you stupid bint!"

"And what exactly was I supposed to do?" she squared up to him angrily. "Lie about the fact we're married?"

"No, but maybe I should just keep you out of any drug investigations in the future just in case it comes back to bite me on the behind!"

"You can't do that and you know you can't! You can't use my husband's position in the squad as an excuse to..."

"Oh belt up!" Frank shook his head and turned his back on her dismissively. "You've given me one headache after another ever since I arrived at Sun Hill and this is just the bloody icing on hte cake! You'd be far better off getting yourself onto the squad so that you and hubby can work together and then we wouldn't have these potential problems!"

Christina bit her tongue, desperate to lash out again yet knowing that it wasn't going to do her any good in the long run. Not to mention the fact that she would like to see Stewart's face if she _did_ somehow manage to end up working alongside him. Something told her that he wouldn't be best pleased about it, even less so than he currently was.

"So what do you want me to do now?" she asked instead.

"Well I don't want you hanging around here like a bad omen," he turned to face her again. "Jim and I have got to give evidence believing that the crown can still win this trial. So why don't you sod off back to the nick and get something productive done for the rest of the afternoon. Do you think you can manage that?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes Guv," she replied through gritted teeth.

"Good." He pointed to the door. "Off you go then."

Despising him even more than she had thought she possibly could, she left quickly, jamming her car key into the lock and slamming the door behind her. She drove angrily through the streets from the court back to the nick, shouting at other drivers and almost colliding with Brownlow as he drove out of the yard as she drove in. Her anger continued all the way back inside and up the stairs to CID where she banged the door behind her, almost knocking out Pete as he came in at her back.

"Watch what you're doing!" he complained, pushing it open. "You're not the only person around here you know."

"Sorry," she said, throwing her bag down onto her desk. "It's been a bit of a shit morning so far, that's all."

"How did it go at court?"

"You're better not asking."

"Suit yourself." He dropped some papers on her desk. "Burnside was looking for this information earlier. Can you pass it onto him when he gets back?"

She glanced at it and then moved it to the side of her desk. "Don't you want to do it yourself? I know how much you _crave_ his good opinion."

He made a face at her sarcasm. "No thanks. Something tells me that _your_ bad mood is down to _his_ bad mood which is probably down to you anyway, so I'll stay clear. Just make sure he gets it." Turning, he left the room before she had a chance to respond.

"Prick," she muttered under her breath unkindly. Pete was a typical frustrated uniform bobby, desperate for any chance to get into CID, desperate for any chance to impress the man he so badly wanted to emulate. As if there was anything worth emulating. "Well..." she said aloud, looking through the window into Frank's empty office. "You're welcome to him."

XXXX

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. With Frank at court, and therefore not breathing down her neck, she managed to get through a fair bit of work, most of which she had been deliberately avoiding. Her mood seemed to give her the ability to power through the mundane tasks and, by four o'clock, she was actually quite happy with what she had achieved.

Glancing across the room, she looked at Ted who was buried in paperwork of his own, having returned an hour earlier from a mysterious meeting with a snout.

"Ted...can I ask your advice?"

"Oh, that's dangerous. Depends on what you're asking."

She got up and moved over to sit down at the desk opposite. "Do you think I should try for Sergeant?" He raised his eyebrows. "The application procedure's just been announced and the exam's in January. I think I'm ready but I don't want to make a prat of myself."

"If you think you're ready then it's got sod all to do with me," Ted replied.

"So you don't think I'm ready then?"

"That's not what I said."

"So?"

He leaned back in his seat. "I think the question you should be asking yourself is not whether or not you're ready, but rather why you want it."

Christina frowned. "Isn't it obvious? Promotion, pay rise, advancement..."

"And a way out of Sun Hill?" She said nothing. "You know that if you do get promotion, chances are you'd be moved on somewhere else. Stafford Row, Barton Street, maybe further afield. You have to ask yourself if that's what you want."

She looked down at the desktop, "Maybe it is."

"Look..." he sat forward again. "If you want to get away from a certain person, I don't blame you. Half the time I'm looking for a way out myself. But if you get it, and you do go, then he'll probably think he's won."

"I don't know what..."

"Oh come on, I'm not blind. Or deaf. He gives you a hard time, harder than you deserve because you're a woman. And he's just waiting for you to give up and go so it can be all boys together. What he doesn't realise, is that the force is changing, whether we like it or not. One day, you'll outnumber us in CID." Ted lit up a cigarette. "You're more than capable of becoming Sergeant, Chris, if you want it for the right reasons."

"But if I did go for it..."

"Right then!" Frank suddenly stalked into the room, bringing an end to the conversation and clapping his hands together. "Ted, I think it's time you and I had a little chat, don't you?"

"About what?" Ted asked, frowning.

"About your loan repayments. Conway's had National Trust on the blower again and he's not too happy about it. So he wants _me_ to talk to _you_ about how you're going to sort it. So, let's go." He headed over to his office door. "Chris, make yourself useful and bring us two coffees will you? Three sugars in mine. There's a good girl."

"Well, hang on..."

He turned to look at her, "Yes?"

"What happened in court?"

"Jim and I gave our evidence. Court's down until tomorrow for the defence to open its case. Any more questions or do I have to ask twice for the coffee?"

Christina narrowed her eyes as he winked at her before disappearing into his office. Ted got to his feet, shrugged and then followed him, closing the door behind him. Through the glass she could see them talking, could see that her boss had no compunction, no thought whatsoever for the way he had just spoken to her. Scraping her chair back, she got to her feet and moved over to the kettle, flicking the switch angrily. Ted was right. Getting away from Frank would be a big bonus to becoming sergeant and yet he was also right that, deep down, it was one of her biggest motivating factors for going for the promotion in the first place.

As she waited for the kettle to boil, she lifted a spoon and reached for what she thought was the sugar, recognising just in time that it was in fact salt, left over from the last load of fish and chips they had had one night after an obbo. For a brief moment, she considered putting it in his coffee anyway, then she thought about the inevitable bollocking and realised that, as with so many things, it just wasn't worth it.

XXXX

"Sergeant? Why on earth would you want to go for Sergeant?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Christina replied, lying on her back looking at the ceiling. "More money, better prospects..."

"Don't you like it at Sun Hill, Burnside notwithstanding?" Stewart asked, rolling over to look at her.

"Yes..."

"So why would you want to leave? You'd be moved on you know."

"I know that," she turned to face him. "It might not be a bad thing in the long run."

"I thought you wanted to have a baby," he reminded her, reaching out to push some of her hair behind her ear. "Isn't that why we just had unprotected sex? You wouldn't be able to do both."

"I'm sure there are plenty female sergeants who are also mothers," she replied tetchily.

"Oh come on, you know the force is no job for a woman with kids. What if something were to happen to you?"

"What if something were to happen to _you_? Why should it be any different for me?"

He shook his head, "I don't think you understand how gruelling the job can be, Chris. You're always complaining that I'm working so much overtime and that's because of my rank. My DCs can usually go home at a normal hour but us DS's have to put a bit more in. There's no way that you could do that and look after our kids and there's no way I'm having them raised by nannies."

"God, you're such a chauvinist!" She rolled over onto her other side away from him.

"No, I'm a realist." He flicked off the bedside light, plunging the room into darkness before dropping a kiss on her shoulder and rolling away again. Within moments, like every other time, his breathing became even, a slight snore escaping every so often.

She lay in the dark, her mind and body jangling. She knew he wasn't entirely enamoured at the idea of having children, he had only agreed they should try because he thought it was what she wanted and it was...sometimes. Other times she couldn't help but wonder what kind of mother she would make and whether or not he was right about how difficult it would be to juggle that and any elevation to her career. She had known him long enough to know, however, that his opposition was less about what childcare problems a promotion might present and more about her potentially reaching an equal rank.

She knew that, deep down, he wouldn't like that. He wouldn't like it one bit.

XXXX

If there was one thing she had learned since Frank had taken charge at Sun Hill, it was that very little ever got past him. Either it was because he had a very keen sense of when someone was thinking about something and enough savvy to be able to work out what it was...or someone in the department had a very big mouth. She wasn't altogether sure which it was, but her money definitely had to rest on the latter when he called her into his office first thing and looked her up and down as though sizing up her potential for something.

"Ted tells me that you're thinking of putting in for Sergeant."

Christina paused then looked over her shoulder back out into the room where Ted seemed to visibly shrink at his desk.

"Don't blame him. There might have been a bit of whisky involved in the run up to the revelation." Frank sat back and surveyed her thoughtfully. "Are you serious about it?"

She turned back to face him. "I..."

"What does hubby think?"

"I haven't discussed it with him," she lied.

"Really? I would have thought a decision like that would be something you would at least run by him."

"Why?" she snapped. "Do I need his permission?"

Frank raised his eyebrows. "No. Did I say that?"

"No. Sorry it's...it's been a bit of a morning, that's all."

"It's only just gone nine."

"Yeah well he's still angry about the whole Nelson thing," she said, thinking back to the argument they had had before she had left.

"Well I suppose we can hardly blame him. We did piss all over his operation." He paused. "If you _do_ want to apply for the boards, then of course you'd have my full support."

Ted's words from the previous afternoon rang in her ears. "Really?"

"I think you'd make a very good Sergeant. Perhaps better than some of those already holding that rank, and I don't just mean Ted." He held her gaze. "Do you want to apply?"

Christina paused. There were so many reasons why she should do it. All the thing she had mentioned to Ted; promotion, pay rise, advancement...even were she never to go any higher than sergeant it would be some sort of achievement.

Leaving Sun Hill, leaving Frank...perhaps the biggest inducement of all.

Or the biggest pitfall.

"I'm not sure yet," she replied as honestly as she could. "There's a lot to think about."

"I'm sure there is. Your husband doesn't strike me as a man who'd like to share rank with his wife, at least not going by his previous performance in here anyway."

"Yeah well..." she looked at the floor. "Like I said I don't need his permission." When he didn't reply, she looked up again and met his gaze. "Is there anything else, or can I get on with some work?"

"Of course you can Constable."

Without waiting for any further jibes, she turned and left his office, being careful not to bang the door behind her. "Thanks a lot Ted," she hissed, stomping back over to her desk.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I really didn't think it was a big secret."

"No..." she glanced back towards the office to where Frank was still watching her. "Well it isn't now, is it?"


End file.
